


#notalovestory

by sseoi



Series: Oh No They Did [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, M/M, Mixed Media, Social Media, Twitterfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sseoi/pseuds/sseoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru, Japan's representative pretty boy actor, lands the best movie role of his career yet. Shame about who else is acting in it, too.<br/></p><blockquote>
  <p>Dearest Oikawa,</p>
  <p>I am sorry that you hit me at the party last week. I am confident that your reputation will survive the backlash. Hopefully we will be able to speak on better terms the next time we meet.</p>
  <p>Yours,<br/>Ushijima Wakatoshi</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	#notalovestory

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much to [spicybara](http://spicybara.tumblr.com) @ tumblr who has drawn [absolutely beautiful fanart based on this AU here. ](http://spicybara.tumblr.com/post/105487844339/notalovestory-by-hifi-and-readerofasaph-got-me)

For his twenty-fifth birthday, Bokuto Koutarou, lead singer of The Hoots, throws a party at Carte Blanche, the newest, hippest dining establishment in the heart of Roppongi. Comprising an 80-seater dining area and a state-of-the-art bar stocked with alcoholic beverages from the finest breweries and wineries in Asia and Europe, it has a killer view of the city from beyond its seventy storeys-high, glass-walled vantage point. The guest list features over one hundred of the hottest and trendiest people in the entertainment industry. Among those present are Akaashi Keiji, the Hoots’ primary producer responsible for eighty percent of their radio-friendly singles (including the runaway folk-rock hit “Owls in the Valley”); Kuroo Tetsurou, writer and assistant producer of political drama _Blood and the Heart_ , which is currently airing to rave reviews; and Kozume Kenma, founder of indie fashion label Ksquared2.

Given the gathering of the cream of the entertainment crop, all press personnel and journalists present for the event were expecting to come up with glitzy, lighthearted articles featuring photographs of young, good-looking people canoodling the night away and some measure of scandalous gossip. What they were not expecting to get was this — one Oikawa Tooru, teenage heartthrob and Japan’s representative pretty boy actor, trying to claw away at the face of Ushijima Wakatoshi, three-time Japan Academy Award-nominated thespian, broken flute of champagne at his feet, in what is now widely suspected to be a fit of intense jealousy.

The rest, of course, is history — or, as it happens more commonly these days, spreads like wildfire across some twenty social media platforms.

 

* * *

 

  
  


 

* * *

 

_[electone music fades out]_

T: Good evening everyone. You’re listening to the Moonlight Show with Tsukishima Kei and that was Bokuto Koutarou and the Hoots, starting off our Friday night with “Owls in the Valley.” Now coming up we have a favourite number from indie guitarist Yachi, “Staring at My Mother’s Back,” and afterwards we’ll be playing NYM48’s chart-topping single, “Queen Bee,” but before that, we’re going to take our first caller for the evening. Good evening, this is Tsukishima Kei and you are live on air.

G: Hi Tsukki, my name’s Gina and I just want to say, I am a huge fan of Oikawa Tooru and so are many of my friends and we are just so upset about the entire #trashkawa thing that’s just happened. I think everything has just been incredibly exaggerated and the social media storm, the publicity has been unfair and disgraceful. I just want to come on board saying that as fans we are going to stand behind Oikawa-san, he’s an incredibly talented actor and wonderful person and he’s going to have a wonderful career and provide us with many more films and television shows in the future. 

T: And you don’t believe the Youtube videos or the tweets or what the papers are saying. 

G: Absolutely not. I don’t believe it at all. I think the paparazzi and the celebrity bloggers, they just say what they like, and they’re going to do their best to sell a story. Even when there’s no story there. 

T: And what do you say about the reports that last winter Oikawa had to be escorted off the premises of a TV Asahi studio by security personnel due to a physical altercation that broke out backstage between himself and Ushijima-san? 

G: Those reports were never confirmed. I think haters are gonna hate, and there’s a lot of people who hate Oikawa-san. 

T: Thank you very much for your time, it’s been excellent to hear your opinion. I’m just going to move on to our next caller now. This is the Moonlight Show with Tsukishima Kei, how are you this evening. 

K: Very well, thank you. My name’s Kohaku and I’ve been following the whole #trashkawa story with interest because you know, there’s certainly a lot of media exaggeration but where there’s smoke there’s fire, and I think there’s been a lot of smoke around Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi for a long time. They’re both the same age, they both come from the same part of Japan — but face it, their careers have been totally different for many many years. 

T: A teen idol versus an award-winning movie star, huh.

K: Yes, and you know, Oikawa’s an incredibly talented and underrated actor in a lot of ways. One could even say that he’s a better actor than the roles he tends to get. 

T: And what would be the reasons for that? 

K: Well, typecasting, poor choice of roles early on — he started out in sentai series alongside his best friend and fellow actor Iwaizumi Hajime as a teenager, but has really struggled in recent times to make the transition to the big screen.

T: He won a Mainichi Film Award for Best Supporting Actor four years ago for his role in _High Queue_. That’s probably been the critical and commercial highlight of his career to date. 

K: And no big roles since. 

T: No big roles since. 

K: Whereas Ushiwaka has really just gone from success to success. The defining actor of his generation, no question. 

T: And judging from the press appearances, Ushijima-san knows it too. 

K: So you can obviously see, there’s plenty of reason for some envy and, dare I say, animosity between these two.

_[guitar starts to play]_

 

* * *

 

How do you ask out the love of your life when they keep throwing ragefits at you

1 Name: **Not Ushijima Wakatoshi** : 2013/09/21 20:34

There’s a person whom I have felt attracted to for years and whose personality and skills I admire highly. However I have never been able to approach them for various reasons. For one thing both of us have very busy and successful careers and the opportunities to spend time together are extremely limited. But the main problem is that I appear to have made a poor first impression on this person. Every time our paths cross they become very angry at me. What should I do in order to get my feelings across? 

 

2 Name: **The Anon-san at the end of your red string** : 2013/09/21 20:37  
STOP MAKING SHITTY ASS THREADS  
NOOBS

 

3 Name: **The Anon-san at the end of your red string** : 2013/09/21 20:38

Is this the thread where **> >1** is another loser in love?

 

5 Name: **The Anon-san at the end of your red string** : 2013/09/21 21:01  
**> >1**  
Sounds like a drama queen

 

6 Name: **The Anon-san at the end of your red string** : 2013/09/21 21:06

** >>1 **

don’t you pay attention to this board at all lol  
she's just not that into you  
give up dude

 

15 Name: **The Anon-san at the end of your red string** : 2013/09/21 21:35

I think that **> >1** should just be honest with his crush (definitely a crush) and let her know about his feelings. It’s all you can do.

 

18 Name: **The Anon-san at the end of your red string** : 2013/09/21 21:41

 **> >15**  
This.

 

19 Name: **The Anon-san at the end of your red string** : 2013/09/21 21:44

 **> >15**  
agreed

 

* * *

 

Oikawa receives a beautiful bouquet of red roses exactly one week after the now-infamous incident takes place. The fight garners him all kinds of press, mostly bad press, and his publicist calls him to her office to give him a very passionate dressing-down while showing him all the mean things that people are saying about him on the internet.

“The only good thing to come out of this,” she says tiredly, closing the fifth consecutive web browser window featuring a video of him trying to punch the lights out of Ushijima and failing, “is that you are now instantly recognisable to people who are not usually in your target audience. I have to say, you really have Ushijima to thank for this. Thank god you didn’t try to punch a D-lister instead! Nobody would have bothered. Now, all we have to do is to hold a press conference where you apologise for your misdeed, yes, and maybe we can ride the wave of publicity… Perhaps an appearance at a volunteer organisation is not out of the question…”

“You mean he should be sorry that I didn’t scar his face bad enough. He needs an excuse to go for reconstructive plastic surgery so that he can look as handsome as someone like me,” Oikawa sulks, sinking further into the plush office chair and toying with his Tiffany & Co. knot bracelet. Ushijima’s severe, expressionless face flashes once across his mind at the thought, and instinctively he feels his own features curl up with loathing.

Anyway, the roses arrive by way of delivery from the production assistant when he is in the dressing room of a TV Tokyo studio, getting his hair and makeup done in preparation for a variety show appearance. Oikawa counts them — there are twenty-four, all of them a uniform deep crimson, adorned with a sprinkling of baby’s breath and nested in layers of milky, off-white gauze. There is a small envelope tucked within the flowers. Instantly he thinks of Takizawa Risa, a primetime drama regular a few years older than he is, known throughout the circuit for her bold moves in courting her conquests, who never last for more than half a year at a time. Rumour has it that she once spent upwards of five million yen in gifts for an idol who was ten years younger than she was. Older women are not his type, but if she’s interested, he could certainly give this a shot.

With eager anticipation he uses his silver monogrammed letter opener to slice the envelope open.

The card reads: 

_Dearest Oikawa,_

_I am sorry that you hit me at the party last week. I am confident that your reputation will survive the backlash. Hopefully we will be able to speak on better terms the next time we meet._

_Yours,  
Ushijima Wakatoshi_

 

* * *

 

Oikawa remembers the exact moment he fell in hate with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It was fourteen minutes past three in the afternoon and raining outside. Oikawa knew the exact time because there was a wall clock hanging in the waiting hall of the Fuji TV studio where auditions were being held for a major role in a primetime drama, directed by legendary director Ukai Ikkei. Details of the casting call: athletic male over 175 cm tall, aged 18-25, must be able to swim and ride a motorcycle. 

Back in those days (it was half a dozen years ago now) Ushijima still had to _audition_ for the occasional role, instead of getting invited or begged. Still, it was unusual even then for Oikawa Tooru to be sitting in the same hall with former child star Ushijima Wakatoshi, being considered for the same role. 

The rain pattered softly outside as actors were called in, one-by-one, for their audition. Oikawa sat on the faux leather bench in the waiting area and tried his usual strategies for calming his nerves during an anxiety-provoking situation. He counted sheep. He decided what he was going to have for dinner — chashu ramen with milk bread for dessert. He hummed softly under his breath. 

After some time he realised that Ushiwaka, who was sitting directly opposite, was staring at him with what appeared to be a brooding, arrogant and superior stare. 

Irritated, he said, “You’re up next, right?” 

For a moment Ushijima simply kept his gaze trained on Oikawa’s face and did not speak. Although Oikawa knew they were the same age (and from the same prefecture, so many reasons to compare himself unfavourably to the other actor), Ushijima seemed older and more dour. Ushijima had fierce eyebrows and a straight fine nose. He was good-looking, though not as conventionally so as Oikawa was.

Ushijima said: “It is my turn next.” 

Oikawa said, “I see,” and the silence once again descended upon the room, heavy and suffocating. The wall clock ticked the seconds away. Oikawa stared back at Ushijima; they locked gazes; Oikawa felt that he would rather die than back down. Finally he said, mustering up his available confidence, “I’m looking forward to working with Director Ukai.” 

“Is that so? But only one person can pass this audition,” said Ushijima, quite unperturbed, and right on cue, Ushijima’s name was called from the door to the studio room.

The time was fourteen minutes past three and hate bloomed in Oikawa’s heart. 

Two days later he heard that Ushijima had landed the role. There would be other casting calls at which they competed, other award ceremonies, other popularity polls. But the trend had begun and would continue. Ushijima would continue to win, and Oikawa would continue to be a runner-up, a never-was. An inferior version.

 

* * *

 

The burnt roses arrive in a pearl-colored gift box, long and thin and decorated in white ribbon. Ushijima is surprised to find the parcel on his doorstep when he gets home after a long and gruelling on-location shoot in the mountains. Few people have the knowledge or connections to send gifts directly to his home. Curiosity overcomes caution; he bends down, picks up the box and pulls the ribbon away. 

Inside, the ashes are black and smoky. The remnants of what used to be petals, or possibly sprigs of baby's breath, lie scattered as soot at the bottom of the box. But the long stems of the roses, though burnt, are recognisable. A small golden envelope lies tucked into one corner. Ushijima opens it and reads the card inside:

_Dear Ushiwaka,_

_Eat shit,_

_Oikawa Tooru._

The following week passes for Ushijima in what seems to be slow, frustrating motion. He goes to bed at the usual time and gets up at 4am for his daily gym workout, only to find, during his weight training, that he can only successfully lift ninety kilograms, two thirds of his usual bench press. Later on, he only manages two hundred sit-ups before finding himself inexplicably reluctant to continue, and unable to summon the fortitude of mind that usually remains with him for the duration of his morning exercise routine. 

Scripts take a little longer to memorise. He shows up for his next on-location shoot, and to his mortification, requires three entire takes before he gets one scene right. Such carelessness is unforgivable. 

Even his favourite pastime in the evenings, watching classic films in order to study the methods of the great actors, seems to lack its usual savour. He is still in this disturbed state several days later when a phone call from his agent comes, informing him that he has been offered the male lead in what sounds like a promising film in pre-production. 

It's an intriguing role. A genius swordsman of the Bakumatsu era questions his political beliefs, and at the same time, his sexuality. His agent emails him the script and Ushijima reads it on his laptop. It is both humorous and moving. The protagonist is flawed but admirable, exactly the sort of role that brings out the best of Ushijima's acting skills. The heroine is both complex and sympathetic, a quality lacking in so many of the screenplays that cross his agent's desk. 

But it's the third major character in the film who really catches Ushijima’s attention, the protagonist's male lover. Mercurial and hedonistic, with a streak of idealism. The more he reads the character's quicksilver dialogue and emotional progression, the more he pictures Oikawa Tooru delivering those lines, performing those movements. It is a perfect fit. 

He is aware that Oikawa Tooru despises him, but surely it is worth the try? The two of them started off on the wrong footing. Ushijima has no chance of correcting this unless he gets a chance to convey the truth of how he feels to the other actor. 

He calls his agent up. "Could we accept the contract with certain conditions attached?"

She is surprised. "Of course. Director Tanaka Saeko is very keen for you to play the male lead. They made it very clear your fee was negotiable." 

"The fee does not matter," Ushijima says. "What I would like is to have a say in the casting of the film."

 

* * *

 

Oikawa’s agent sounds breathless and disbelieving when she calls. 

"You've been offered the role of a lifetime," she informs him. "If you don't accept it I'm going to tell Iwaizumi-kun."

She sends over the script and the details and soon it is Oikawa’s turn to be disbelieving. Tanaka Saeko is a director whose work he respects immensely — and, perhaps more importantly, she is touted by movie insiders as the most talented young female director in the country. The screenwriter, Takeda Ittetsu, is even better known, having won Japanese Academy Awards in the past. 

And the script itself lives up to his reputation. Elegant and moving dialogue. An intricate but emotionally-laden plot. Each of the major characters in the screenplay has a story in their own right, and Takeda’s pen does each of them justice, bringing all three together at the end in a bittersweet, inevitable resolution. 

Directors don’t usually offer Oikawa parts in films that are actually _good_. Let alone this good. What’s going on here?

It takes three days to get the truth out of his suddenly coy agent. 

“Just sign the contract and we can work out the details later,” she says. 

“I will,” says Oikawa, “when you tell me what the catch is.”

“There _is_ no catch, Tooru,” she says. “It’s a wonderful role and a wonderful opportunity, and it’s dropped right in your lap. Just take it.”

“I refuse,” Oikawa says. It’s not until the evening of the third day that, when reading through one of the industry blogs, he sees the post: 

_A-list actor UW currently in talks to star in TS’s new historical project._

Oikawa picks up his mobile and calls his agent. 

“WHAT’S THIS ABOUT USHIWAKA BEING IN THE FILM,” he rages. “I’M NOT DOING IT. NEVER. NOT IN A MILLION YEARS.”

She sighs. “Is Iwaizumi there yet?”

“Iwa-chan can’t change my mind about this,” Oikawa says. “I’m not taking the part. No. Never. Not on my dead body.”

At that exact instant the doorbell rings, and there’s the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door. Iwaizumi steps into Oikawa’s living room, looking cranky.

Primal instinct overcomes rational thought. Oikawa is suddenly terribly, awfully, afraid for his life. 

“Your dead body can be arranged,” says Iwaizumi, advancing across the living room. “I have a late-night shoot tonight, and people keep asking me about Bokuto’s party, and for fuck’s sake if you’re going to try and assault Ushiwaka at least _do it properly_. Your fist didn’t even end up anywhere near him.” 

“That doesn’t mean I want a demonstration from you in how it’s done!” Oikawa takes a few steps backward, staring warily at Iwaizumi’s clenched fists — except Iwaizumi headbutts him and Oikawa lands bum-first on the Persian rug, his smartphone spinning away from him. 

At some point in the proceedings the speakerphone button on Oikawa’s mobile has been accidentally activated. “Tooru?” his agent’s voice emerges. “Are you okay?” 

“He’s fine,” snaps Iwaizumi. “Aside from the usual first-world problems. Oikawa-world problems. What else is new.” 

“I’m bleeding from my nose,” objects Oikawa, sitting up and obtaining a pastel-pink tissue from the silk-covered tissue box on the coffee table. 

“Like I said. Totally fine.” 

“If you said so,” his agent sighs. “When I asked for your help persuading Tooru I didn’t necessarily mean that you should assault him again.” 

“Have you seen anything else work on this shithead?” 

“You have a point,” she concedes.

Oikawa dabs at his nose daintily and gives Iwaizumi the injured look of a lover jilted at the altar. Bright red blood dots the tissue. 

“I’d have to work with Ushiwaka,” he complains. 

Iwaizumi is unperturbed. “All the more opportunity to punch him in the face, then.”

Oikawa considers this. “I could put frogs in his car. And toilet paper his cabin.”

“Are you a three year old?”

“And headbutting people is mature?” 

“Would you like a black eye to match that nosebleed?”

“ _Boys_ ,” protests Oikawa’s agent. "Anyway Tooru, I have one more piece of information that might help you change your mind. I received a tip this morning that Shimizu Kiyoko signed _her_ contract to star in this film yesterday."

Oikawa pauses. “The most beautiful woman in Japan?” 

“None other.” 

The conversation extends for a good hour after that, but it finishes with Oikawa signing the contract and his agent triumphantly faxing it off to the film’s producer. 

Oikawa consoles himself by researching deadly poisons on the internet and writing a plan for how he can maximise Ushiwaka’s suffering while the film is in progress.

 

* * *

 

The first time they meet on set, Ushijima says, “Thank you for accepting this role.”

They haven’t interacted since Oikawa sent the incinerated roses. There’s no shortage of witty and devastating insults Oikawa has dreamed up in his head over the years, prepared especially for such an opportune time as this, but no amount of image training can overcome the fact that every time Oikawa meets Ushijima his mental faculties are completely overtaken by panic and hatred. Eloquent repartee is out of the question. 

When he finally manages to compose a coherent reply, it’s a question. “Why are you thanking me?”

“Because I asked for you.”

Oikawa is aghast. “What do you mean, you _asked for me_.”

“It was one of my conditions for starring in this film, that you play the role of my lover.” 

It is as if a stage curtain has fallen and all of reality has narrowed to this one moment. Everything seems glassy and unreal. Oikawa’s focus sharpens like a laser upon Ushijima’s stoic and arrogant features. On that perfect nose. That planet-sized ego (and coming from Oikawa, this is saying something). 

This time, Oikawa’s punch lands perfectly, square on the jaw. Ushijima even staggers backwards a step. The elation that spreads through Oikawa’s heart is short-lived, however, when he becomes aware of the hushed silence that has descended upon the film crew. Camerapersons, lighting techs, sound techs, makeup — they’re all staring. A cameraphone flashes from somewhere near the gathered pile of props. Photographic evidence. 

Oikawa’s contract is about to be terminated before he even acts a _single scene_. 

Then Tanaka Saeko’s exuberant voice calls out from the director’s chair. “Perfect!” 

In the next moment she has stood up and is chattering excitedly to Takeda-sensei. “Sensei, do you think we could adjust the opening scene of the script just _slightly_? I think it should incorporate a punch _exactly_ like the one we just saw. That intensity, that violence, that eye contact! It’s a perfect fit for the emotional tension between two characters.”

The scriptwriter adjusts his spectacles as he looks from Ushijima to Oikawa and then back again. “Shouldn’t we see to Ushijima-san’s injuries first? But I do see what you mean, Saeko. That was certainly an inspiring display of chemistry. I’ll see if I can do some revisions to the screenplay tonight.” 

“Don’t worry about me. I am not hurt,” says Ushijima. True to his words, his jaw appears entirely intact and unbruised. To Oikawa, he continues: “I am very sorry about this misunderstanding. I hope that in the future we will be able to work together better.” 

A stifled gasp of surprise comes from one of the costume designers. Clearly she finds the current turn of events shocking and confusing. As she should. Oikawa has rarely felt this stupefied. 

Ushiwaka holds out his hand. It’s an attractive and masculine hand, with long fingers and blunt fingernails. It takes Oikawa a moment to process that he has no choice but to accept the handshake.

So he does. Ushijima’s grip is warm and steady, too secure for Oikawa to yank his own hand away prematurely. The heat of his callused fingertips seems to burn through Oikawa’s skin where they touch him, a sensation that does not fade even when Oikawa manages to break away and stage a hasty egress to the men’s toilets. 

In desperation Oikawa locates the antibacterial soap and washes his hands. Three times.

 

* * *

 

  


 

* * *

 

By the time the last two weeks of filming come around, they are finished with the action-heavy sequences, so all that’s left with are a few emotional scenes. Oikawa is dreading them. How could he not when he has to _make out_ with Ushijima in them? He’s managed to survive two whole months of being around Ushijima daily, but this really takes the cake.

“I’m not going to make it out alive,” he whines to Iwaizumi on the phone the night before filming. He is literally this close to tears at the idea of having to suck face with Ushijima. The idea sounded better on paper. Not so much now that the act itself is imminent. “I thought I was prepared. I wasn’t.”

“If you conveniently forget to turn up for the shoot tomorrow and end up breaking your contract, and I have to clear all your debt for you,” Iwaizumi says mercilessly, “I will literally kick your ass into the next century.”

Oikawa turns up to the set two hours early the next morning, so that he can mentally prepare himself. He plans to sit at his dressing table and convince himself that if he’s done like fifty kissing scenes throughout his entire career, he can do this one, too. Unfortunately, Ushijima has the same idea.

“Good morning,” he announces, exactly ten minutes after Oikawa arrives. “Coffee? I only have this —” he holds up his paper cup — “but if you like, I can tell my personal assistant to get you something.”

“No thanks,” Oikawa replies coldly. He crosses his arms and stares at his reflection in the mirror as Ushijima patters around in the background. “I want to make sure that filming goes without a hitch today, so don’t you dare trip up, okay? Just so you know, I’m already completely prepared. Don’t you hold back on my behalf.”

Ushijima doesn’t even register surprise at what he said. “I know you are, and I wasn’t planning to.”

Except when the cameras start rolling, Oikawa starts to wish that Ushijima _did_ hold back. It is some three hours later and Oikawa is trying to recall what the performance directions in the script were as Ushijima kisses him, even though he is sure that he knows the script inside out. He certainly did not expect Ushijima to be this good of a kisser, and he is suddenly too aware of the unwavering stares of the crew members as they film the scene. It’s different this time round, not like how it is filming a kiss with an actress; Ushijima is taller and he is taking the lead and it makes Oikawa self-conscious and he does not like this one bit. In his head he had pulled off the scene with much aplomb. Things aren’t going as planned.

 _Stay in character,_ he thinks desperately. Ushijima pulls him closer and now he can feel Ushijima’s body heat through his costume, their chests pressed together — what the hell, was Ushijima improvising? He gives a futile tug to Ushijima’s sleeve — pretty sure this was in the script — and Ushijima tilts his head and kisses him deeper, and shit, his knees are going weak. It feels that good. Distinctly he can feel himself losing his balance, and the palm of Ushijima’s broad, reassuring hand slides downwards towards the small of his back, supporting his fall —

“Cut!” Tanaka yells. “Oikawa-san, you’re a genius! Ryuu, did you get that all down on film? You did, right?”

A genius — that’s the first time he’s ever been called a genius by a director. When he comes to his senses he realises he’s still within Ushijima’s embrace. Hastily he rights himself, and Ushijima lets go of him, face blank and devoid of all passion, in stark contrast to what he was like seconds ago.

“C’mere, both of you,” Tanaka says, beckoning them to the monitor where she is watching the replays. “Okay, guys, this is the kind of raw emotion that I’m looking for!” She taps the screen with her rolled-up script, and Oikawa watches in horror as his counterpart onscreen stumbles slightly backwards, knees buckling, while Ushijima catches him squarely in the back. Oikawa doesn’t have the heart to tell Tanaka that that wasn’t actually genius, or even acting — it was one hundred percent biological response. And to be honest, he doesn’t want to admit it, either.

“We’re going to try to get more of that intensity in the next few takes. I really want this to hit the audience hard, you know?” Tanaka laughs. “Ushijima-san, you’re going to need to display a bit more inner conflict over whether your character thinks this is morally right, okay? Oikawa-san, this guy is from the rival political faction! He’s your mortal enemy! I want to see a bit more resistance in the first few seconds — build it up, so when you finally give in, it’s going to have more impact. More expression from the both of you — Ryuu, get the close-ups! Okay, let’s try again.”

It takes them seven takes to produce satisfactory results. This also means that, time taken to film the dialogue included, they’d been doing the same scene for four hours straight. By the end of the day Oikawa can’t look Ushijima in the eye between takes and his lips are sore. It’s good that he has the next two days off, because when he goes to bed that night, he finds that he can’t fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

Tanaka is well-known for her voracious consumption of alcohol, but to everyone’s surprise, it is Takeda who manages to drink her under the table at the wrap party.

“I don’t usually indulge myself this way,” he grins embarrassedly while Tanaka’s younger brother — one of the cameramen on set — drags her away to a corner of the private dining room. “But I think it’s fine to let loose, especially after we’ve worked so hard on the movie.”

Oikawa knows better than to drink himself silly like them. That was the reason why he’d attacked Ushijima at Bokuto’s party in the first place — one drink too much, and suddenly Ushijima’s face becomes just that much more hateful and annoying from across the dining hall, and then the next day everyone from Osaka to Hokkaido has heard of what he did the night before. Ushijima’s here today too, of course. Oikawa is not sure his career would survive another incident like that, so he stays put at his own table and flirts shamelessly with the makeup artists.

But of course Ushijima wants to stir up trouble. Oikawa spots him walking towards their side of the room.

"Mizuki-chan," he says loudly as Ushijima nears, to drive in the point that he is cool and popular with girls and Ushijima is not. “Remember to call me, okay? I’ll miss you so much!”

“Oikawa,” Ushijima begins. “Can I have a word? Privately.”

“Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of all these pretty ladies here. Right?” Oikawa replies, giving his company his best and most charming megawatt smile. Ever since they filmed the kiss scene two weeks ago, that’s the first thing he thinks of when he looks at Ushijima’s face. It’d made his job exceedingly difficult for the remainder of the filming schedule, so if he wasn’t already taking every opportunity to spite Ushijima, then now he is.

Ushijima stares at the table for a brief moment, then drags a spare chair from a nearby table and sits down. This ruffles Oikawa’s feathers. He was not expecting Ushijima to take him up on the offer.

“I just wanted to thank you for agreeing to work with me on this movie,” Ushijima tells him. “It has been an invaluable experience for me, as I expected it to be. I hope it was the same for you.”

“I hope you don’t regret _inviting_ me for this role,” Oikawa says cuttingly, proffering his best fake smile. “Because when the movie airs, everyone will be so impressed with my performance that the same time next year, I will be snagging every lead role imaginable, and you will be out of a job! Thanks in advance, Ushiwaka-chan.”

“I do not think that is possible. Me being out of a job, that is,” Ushijima deadpans, which makes Oikawa seethe inside. “But I do think this will increase your chances of getting better roles, yes.”

“Are you quite done yet?” Oikawa snaps. “I have been eagerly awaiting the day filming wraps so I don’t have to see your face again. If you must know, then yes, this was an invaluable experience for me, from a professional point of view. I got to work with a director I highly respect and an Academy Award-winning scribe. Good enough answer for you?”

For a moment, under the dimmed lights of the restaurant, Oikawa detects what seems like surprised hurt flashing over Ushijima’s usually taciturn features. He’s spent three months working in close contact with him, after all, and now, somehow, he’s managed to figure out Ushijima does have emotions — he just expresses them in the subtlest of ways. For some reason Oikawa’s brain decides to revolt against him, and momentarily he recalls Ushijima offering to share his cabin with Oikawa for the duration of filming, Ushijima telling him that his personal assistant was available to help if he needed anything at all, Ushijima, the reason why he’s even here in the first place, the firm, warm touch of Ushijima’s palm against his back, and then suddenly he feels sorry. Just for a second. Then Ushijima’s face fixes itself, and everything is back to normal.

“I see,” Ushijima responds. “I’m sorry for taking up your time. Have a good evening.” Then he gets up from his chair and leaves.

There are a few seconds of silence before one of the girls says, “Oikawa-san, wasn’t that a little mean of you?”

“All the better if it was,” Oikawa sniffs, putting on an air of haughtiness. “Good riddance.”

 

* * *

 

From: Tooru the Great  
Sent: Monday 18 August 2014 21:50  
To: Iwa-chan  
Subject: WHAT THE FUCK????!?!?!?!?!?!?

http://fyeahushioi.tumblr.com/

 

* * *

 

Filming lasts three months, but post-production lasts five. For these five months Oikawa does not hear from Ushijima at all. Instead he is preoccupied with reports — popping up like mushrooms in the tabloids — that claim that the two of them are actually dating in secret. Somehow the paparazzi managed to photograph them on a break on set. Judging by the grainy quality of the photographs, they must have hidden some distance away, then zoomed in like crazy with those bazooka cameras of theirs. What is undeniable about these photographs, however, is the way that Ushijima appears to be paying rapt attention to Oikawa, pure, unadulterated interest written all over his face as they speak; what is horrifying about them is that Oikawa is mirroring Ushijima’s body language. Their bodies are turned towards each other, like sides of an isosceles triangle yet to meet, and Oikawa even has a foot extended into the narrow radius of Ushijima’s personal space.

In short, they look _close_.

Oikawa’s publicist does not understand why he is upset.

“You have literally never been in such demand,” she says when he calls her to complain about it. “Fans and critics alike are going crazy hyping up this movie and guess whose performance they can’t wait to see the most? Yours. Believe me, shutting down these tabloids is going to hurt. You’re in a gay movie. There are rumours that you are half of a couple with the other male lead, with whom you have had a strained public relationship at best. Let the interest snowball. You know you gave the performance of your life in this film. People deserve to see it.”

The press tour begins a few weeks before the movie is due to air. When he arrives at the studio for the first in a very long string of scheduled interviews, Shimizu, who is beautiful as ever, greets him with a warm smile and asks, “How have you been, Oikawa-san?” Ushijima, however, delivers a curt nod in his direction and nothing else, as if they had never been co-workers to begin with. That’s fine! He wasn’t expecting any sort of decorum from someone as staid as Ushiwaka-chan anyway.

The interviewer runs them through the same old typical questions — how did you prepare for this role, which scenes should the audience look forward to, were there any interesting stories on set that you can relate to us, Shimizu-san, you look absolutely gorgeous, how difficult was it to play a member of the imperial family forced into exile?

And then she glances in Oikawa’s direction with a twinkle in her eye, and immediately Oikawa feels that distinct, uneasy feeling of dread starting to settle in his stomach.

“Now this is something that we’re all _dying_ to know,” she begins, a mischievous lilt to her voice. “Recently we’ve gotten wind of some gossip that our two handsome leading men have been getting along very well! Which is interesting, because, well, the media has always pitted the two of you against each other. Is there anything you’d like to say about working with each other on this movie, especially in such close proximity?”

“Oikawa is a consummate professional,” Ushijima says without hesitation, before Oikawa can even begin to think of a reply. “He comes to set prepared, has an exceptional understanding of the script, delivers nuanced performances at the drop of a hat. But what I appreciate most of all is his ability to adapt to the needs of every person on set. He has the rare talent of being able to draw the best out in everyone, whether it is a cast or crew member. That lends an irreplaceable cohesiveness to how the production turns out in the end. It is likely to be difficult to find another actor who is able to complement me so well in a supporting role.”

He pauses, then after seeming to consider how to best phrase the rest of his thoughts, “Such ability should be put to good use in many other similarly well-written roles. That is how I feel.”

It is only when everyone else on set turns to stare at him expectantly does Oikawa realise that he is obligated to say something as well.

“Ushiwaka-chan has actually been an absolute joy to work with,” he pretends to gush, but the words don’t come out right. Something about them just feels so insincere in comparison to how Ushijima had spoken about him, true and sure and authentic. “This is the first time that we’ve ever worked together, but I’d be happy to collaborate again!”

The interviewer moves onto grilling Shimizu about the (false) allegations that she went on a solitary diet of sweet potatoes to lose weight for the role. Oikawa’s mind starts to drift. He is turning Ushijima’s words around in his head, over and over again, and so much of it sounds like a diss — the implication that Oikawa can only ever be a complement, the insinuation of Ushijima’s own superiority — but it’s also one of the few times that anybody has acknowledged that he really deserves better.

 

* * *

 

The press tour continues with an atmosphere of uncomfortable frostiness — from Ushijima, that is. Oikawa would have been upset if it wasn’t the kind of behaviour that he’d wanted from Ushijima from the very beginning. Nonetheless it is strange to be sitting in awkward silence in interview studios and dressing rooms with only Shimizu to separate them, a perpetual look of confusion on her face about the relationship between her two fellow co-workers, and to be talking about each other at premieres as if the other party wasn’t present. _Is UshiOi over???_ , screams the headlines of a trashy entertainment mag, along with photographs of them looking sour at press conferences. A few of his fans even send him handwritten letters asking about whether they are getting along: _It would be a pity for you to be angry at each other!! The two of you worked flawlessly together for this movie and I was so happy to see the chemistry between the two of you!!! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ_

He throws the letters into his fireplace, just like he did with Ushijima’s roses months ago.

The only consolation is that at the end of the promotions, Oikawa receives news that _The Last Chrysanthemum_ has garnered a record number of nominations for the next round of Academy Awards, including Best Supporting Actor. Best Supporting Actor! That means him!

He meets his publicist to arrange the details of his appearance at the gala.

“With this, all these critically-acclaimed roles are gonna drop riiiight into your lap,” she grins, scrolling through a list of fashion houses that she might contact to help style Oikawa for the event. “Isn’t Mayu-chan gonna be super happy about this, huh? Your agent?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa drawls, playing with her fountain pen. “She’s already gotten a few calls. Not less than ten. We’re considering the offers very carefully.” Then he gives her his most devious grin.

“What was it I said that time you were in my office, when that fight broke out? That you really have Ushijima to thank? Now you have to thank him again, I guess. For suggesting you for the role in the first place. Why don’t you buy him dinner? Haha.”

It is only when he replies with a pensive “Maybe”, staring out her office window, that she turns to look at him disbelievingly.

“Wait,” she says, suddenly equal parts curious and solemn, “you haven’t actually started to _like_ him, have you? I thought you hated his dashing A-list guts!” 

“NO, I DON’T,” he insists, then loses it. “I don’t know. Don’t ask me!” Then he ignores all Ushijima-related questions from her for the rest of the day because the world is conspiring against him.

 

* * *

 

 _The Last Chrysanthemum_ is a critical and commercial success. It tops box office rankings for weeks and weeks following its summer release, continuing to generate buzz well into autumn and even winter. It ignites the careers of everyone involved with the project like bright sparks to dry tinder. For the first time in his life Oikawa is deluged with offers to act in high-profile dramas, with other critically acclaimed actors.

He is not offered any lead roles. Oikawa experiences surprisingly little bitterness about this fact. Certainly the characters that he is being offered, though minor, are far more challenging and interesting than playing the tepid male love interest in a formulaic romcom or teen comedy. 

Oikawa accepts in a role in a primetime crime drama, as the best friend of the protagonist, and finds it some of the most rewarding work he’s ever done. It doesn’t push his abilities to their absolute edge, the way working with Shimizu and Ushijima did, but it brings out a side of his acting that he hasn’t been able to develop before now. 

Ushijima’s words remain with him and echo in his head, sometimes. After three months of filming and two months of press conferences, not to mention plenty of time for thinking (which Oikawa does engage in, contrary to public image), he’s come to the conclusion that the other actor does respect him in his own way. Even the statement that Oikawa is best suited to a supporting role — while Oikawa’s not prepared to accept that entirely, he’s willing to admit that he doesn’t have the stage or screen presence that can compete with Ushjima when they’re acting side-by-side. 

Conceding this requires several martinis and the cold hard silence of the late winter night, alone in his own apartment. But the admission is in many ways liberating. If he doesn’t need to be Ushijima Wakatoshi, than he can be Oikawa Tooru. 

And Oikawa Tooru is a _phenomenal_ actor and human being. 

He considers inviting Ushijima out for a thank-you dinner, and keeps telling himself he’ll do so when he’s mentally prepared for the situation. But the months pass and his schedule is busy, and as it turns out he has no further contact with Ushijima until the evening of the Japanese Academy Awards.

They arrive at the venue, one of Tokyo’s ritziest hotels, almost at the same time, and they shake hands when they meet. Ushijima looks tall and impeccable in a white shirt, petrol-blue suit and dark grey suede loafers. The scent of his cologne is sharp — a woody, spicy fragrance — but not overpowering. 

Oikawa can only console himself with the fact that his own red-carpet outfit, while undoubtedly not as expensive, displays more panache and sense of adventure. He picked out his own ensemble of white chinos, bottle-green jacket, and brown leather boots weeks ago. It’s not sort of the style display that will win universal acclaim, but it certainly will gain attention — and in this business, all attention is the right sort of attention, with only a few extreme exceptions.

Isn’t that why he’s tolerated this rigmarole with Ushijima for so long? 

The cast and crew of _The Last Chrysanthemum_ sit together at the ceremony. Oikawa finds himself seated between Ushijima and an unusually cheerful Tanaka Saeko. The chairs are narrower than he expected; for the duration of the evening he remains chillingly aware of Ushijima’s physical proximity, the smell of his cologne, the way they inadvertently brush against each other when shifting in their seats. 

After a stunning dance performance from NYM48 and an a series of opening speeches, the awards are called. _The Last Chrysanthemum_ wins many of them. But Oikawa’s is the first. His name is announced: “And for his sensitive and truly praiseworthy performance of Wakahisa Hiroshi in _The Last Chrysanthemum_ , the Best Supporting Actor award goes to Oikawa Tooru.”

Oikawa wanders up to the stage in a daze, buoyed by applause. He accepts the statuette, stands at the podium, and promptly forgets the acceptance speech he rewrote five times last week. Somehow he manages to ad-lib his way through the whole process, successfully if the laughter and claps from the audience are any indication, and just as he is about to wrap up for some reason it occurs to him to say one last thing: 

“....and I want to thank my fellow actor Ushijima-san especially, for all his support and for believing in me,” Oikawa says. “It’s no exaggeration to say that I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for him.” 

Are those screams of glee he hears from the back of the hall? But Oikawa’s time is up; he returns to his seat. Already they are announcing the winner for Best Supporting Actress. He sits down, still overwhelmed by the experience, and clutches the award statuette to his chest. 

“How rare,” says Ushijima, “a genuine smile.”

The fond familiarity in Ushijima’s voice catches Oikawa off-guard. Does the other actor know him so well then, that he can read Oikawa’s expressions like this? 

“Iwa-chan’s the only one allowed to talk to me like that,” he protests. 

Did Ushijima’s face darken slightly there? “I see.” 

“But of course I’m happy,” Oikawa adds, because he is in a conciliatory mood. “It’s the first time I’ve ever won something like this.” 

“Congratulations, then.” Ushijima smiles, in that minimalistic and manly way of his that female moviegoers are so in love with. After months of exposure, Oikawa has learned to recognise it as a sincere gesture of friendliness.

Further award-winners are announced and _The Last Chrysanthemum_ continues to storm its way through: Best Screenplay, Best Cinematography. Then Best Lead Actor and Actress, and both Ushijima and Shimizu surprise Oikawa by crediting him for enabling them to perform at their best. He’d expected this coming from Ushijima, since it matches up with with the actor’s stance in previous media appearances, but it’s particularly humbling coming from Shimizu, whose reputation in the industry outstrips even Ushijima’s. 

_The Last Chrysanthemum_ wins Best Picture to no one’s surprise. Almost immediately after they’re swept up into the most complicated photo call Oikawa has ever experienced: poses with the entire cast and crew, poses with the other award winners, poses with Shimizu and Ushijima. Oikawa considers himself a fairly photogenic and attractive celebrity, but after nearly an hour of this he wonders if he is beginning to look haggard. 

The activity and bustle is just beginning to die down when one of the official event photographers comes up to him and Ushijima with what can only be described as a shit-eating grin. 

“Ahem, _several_ of the award attendees have asked if we could have a special shoot,” he says, looking from Oikawa to Ushijima. “Would the two of you, by any chance, be averse to re-enacting that iconic scene from _The Last Chrysanthemum_?”

“The kiss!” yells out a young woman from the onlookers. 

Awareness of what is being asked of them descends upon Oikawa. He shakes his head. “No. Oh, no no no no no.” He tries to laugh it off, but his attempt at a chuckle comes out fake and tinny. 

Ushijima shrugs. “I’m game.”

And Ushijima is a traitor, what else is new. The catcalls and cheers grow in intensity as the rest of the attendees become aware of the conversation. Even Tanaka Saeko and Takeda Ittetsu have joined in. 

Oikawa spins around to face Ushijima, who’s standing there, looking carefully blank. The bystanders are chanting now: “ _Kiss, kiss, kiss._ ”

There really is no choice, and after all, hasn’t he made out with Ushiwaka some seven times already? What harm can one more kiss do? 

Ushijima places an arm around him and the heat is sudden and searing. Oikawa leans in, tilts his face. Closes his eyes. As in the film, it’s a kiss that starts hesitant, and then increases in passion. As with all previous occasions, Oikawa’s reaction is quite definite: his legs are buckling beneath him. If he imagines it hard enough, he can almost recall the first time it happened, under the watchful eyes of the crew, his bewilderment over Ushijima’s vehement straightforwardness, the intensity of it all, the stubborn, unyielding tension that he’d felt then, partly because of what was in the script, partly because he just didn’t want to give in himself.

This time, however, it’s different. Maybe it’s the emotional high from having won the first Academy Award of his entire career, and he’s certain (so certain) that none of this is happening because Ushijima is here too, and most likely he might regret this right after the kiss ends, but this just feels _right_. He curls an arm around Ushijima’s waist and returns the kiss with equal fervour. Actual screams are coming from the female fans now, but Oikawa has no mental faculties left to pay attention to them. Quite helplessly, he melts into Ushijima’s arms to the sound of thunderous applause.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. With thanks to [jcminwell](http://jcminwell.tumblr.com) who helped write poor Ushijima's ill-fated 2ch topic.  
> 2\. Iphone messages were created using http://www.iphonetextgenerator.com/


End file.
